“It’s warmer isn’t it? Do you like how it feels?” Ayla said.
“I don’t know,” Lanoga said.
Ayla dipped a little of the tepid water into the basket, added the crushed soaproot, and mixed it around with her hand. Then she took out a little of the mashed plant and rubbed her hands together. “Lanoga, put the baby down, pick
up some of this soaproot, and do what I am doing,” the woman said.
The girl watched her, lifted the baby off her hip, put her down in the dirt near her feet, then slowly reached for the soaproot. She dipped it in the water and rubbed her hands together. A little foam started to form, and a brief expression of interest crossed Lanoga’s face. The saponin-filled roots did not create an abundance of soapy lather, but it was enough to clean her hands.
“Good soaproot should be slippery and make some foam,” Ayla said. “Now rinse it off, like this. See how much cleaner your hands are?” The girl dipped her hands in the water and then looked at them. Again an expression of interest crossed her face. “Let’s eat now.”
Ayla went back to where her haversack was and took out some packages. One was a carved wooden bowl with a lid, tied on with cordage wrapped around it. She untied the cords, removed the lid, and lightly touched the top of the contents. “It is still slightly warm,” she said, showing her the congealed mass of finely ground cooked grains of different varieties. “I collected this grain last fall when Jondalar and I were on our Journey. There are some rye seeds and wheat seeds, and some oats. I added a little salt while it was cooking. The little black seeds come from a plant I call goosefoot, but it has a different Zelandonii name. The leaves are good to eat, too. I made this cereal for Lorala. I think there’s enough for you and me, too, but why don’t you see if she likes the meat we scraped first.”
The meat was wrapped in some large plantain leaves. Ayla handed it to Lanoga and watched to see what she would do. She opened the package, took some of the mushy substance in her fingers, and put it in the baby’s mouth while she was sitting on her hip. The child opened her mouth readily for her sister, but at the first taste, she looked surprised. She moved it around in her mouth, examining the taste and texture, and when she finally swallowed it, she opened her mouth for more. She reminded Ayla of a little bird.
Lanoga smiled, and Ayla realized it was the first time she
had seen the girl smile. Lanoga fed her sister the rest of the meat, then started on the cereal. She took a taste herself first, then put some in the baby’s mouth. They both watched her reaction to the new taste. With an expression of intense concentration, she examined it with her mouth, even chewing the somewhat gummy concoction. She seemed to think about it for a moment, then swallowed and opened her mouth for more. Ayla was amazed at how much the baby was able to eat, but only when she finally stopped opening her mouth did Lanoga put another taste in her own mouth.
“If you give her something to hold, does Lorala put it in her mouth?” Ayla asked.
“Yes,” the girl said.
“I brought a little piece of marrow bone. I knew a boy who used to love them when he was a baby,” Ayla said with a smile of fond remembrance and sorrow. “Give it to her and see if she likes it.” Ayla handed her a small piece of deer leg bone, with a hole in the center filled with rich marrow. As soon as Lanoga gave her the bone, the baby put it in her mouth. Again there was that startled look as she stopped and examined the taste, but soon they could hear her making sucking sounds. “Put her down and eat something yourself, Lanoga.”
Wolf had been watching the baby from the place a few feet away where Ayla had motioned him tö stay. Making little yearning whines, he crept slowly toward the infant as she was sitting on a patch of grass. Lanoga watched him a moment, than turned toward Ayla with a look of concern. She hadn’t even acknowledged the presence of the animal before.
“Wolf loves children,” Ayla said. “He wants to play with her, but I think that marrow bone might distract him a little. If she drops it, he might think she is giving it to him and take it. I brought a bone with some meat on it for him. I’ll give it to him over there by The River while we have our meal.”
Ayla pulled a rather large, leather-wrapped package out of her haversack and opened it to reveal some pieces of cooked bison and one good-size raw bone with some hard, dry pieces of brownish meat clinging to it. She got up,
signaled Wolf to follow her, and walked toward the large stream, then gave him the bone. He seemed content to settle down with it.
When she returned, she started taking several more things out of her carrying pack. She had brought a variety of foods. Besides the meat and cereal, she had several things left over from her Journey. There were some dried pieces of a starchy root; some roasted pine nuts from stone pines; some hazelnuts in their shells; and slices of small dried apples, tart and tasty.
As they were eating, Ayla talked to the girl. “Lanoga, I told you we were going to swim and clean up a little before we go to talk to the women, but I think I should tell you why. I know you’ve done the best you know how to feed Lorala, but she needs more than mashed roots to be healthy and grow properly. I showed you how to fix other things to feed her, like scraping the meat so she can eat it, even though she doesn’t have teeth yet. But what she needs most is milk, at least some milk.” The girl watched her while she ate, but did not say anything.
“Where I grew up, women always fed each other’s babies, and if the milk of one of the mothers dried up, the other women would take turns feeding her baby. Proleva told me that Zelandonii women feed other babies, too, but usually only family or close kin. Your mother doesn’t have any siblings or cousins who are nursing mothers, so I’m going to ask the women who are nursing, or will be soon, if they will help. But mothers get very protective of their own babies. They may not want to hold a baby who isn’t clean and doesn’t smell nice, and afterward hold their own.
“We need to clean Lorala so she will be fresh and appealing to the other mothers. We are going to use that soaproot we used on our hands. I will show you how to bathe her, because you will have to keep her clean, and since you will probably be the one who will have to bring her to the women to nurse her, you need to bathe, too. I brought something for you tó wear. Proleva got it for me. It’s been worn before, but it is clean. The girl who wore it got too big for it.” Lanoga did not
respond, and Ayla wondered why she said so little. “Do you understand?” she asked.
Lanoga nodded and kept on eating, now and then glancing at her sister, who was still working on the marrow bone. Ayla thought the baby was starving for foods that offered some of the nourishment she had been lacking. Boiled starchy roots weren’t enough for a growing infant. By the time Lanogahad her fill, the baby seemed to be getting sleepy, and Ayla thought they should wash her now and let her sleep later. She put the containers away and stood up, then noticed a distinctive odor.
The girl noticed it, too. “She messed,” Lanoga said.
“There’s some moss by the little stream. Let’s clean her off before we give her a bath,” Ayla said. The girl just looked at her. The woman picked the baby up. She seemed surprised, but did not object. Ayla carried her to the runoff creek, knelt down near the edge, plucked a handful of moss growing on nearby stones, dipped it in the water, and, holding the baby over her arm, used it to wipe her bottom. With a second handful, she did it again. As she was examining her to make sure she was clean, the baby produced a warm stream. Ayla held her over the ground until she was done, washed her with moss again, then handed her to Lanoga.
“Bring the baby to the basin, Lanoga. It’s time to get her cleaned up. Why don’t you put Lorala in here,” Ayla said, indicating the water-filled stone depression.
The girl gave her a puzzled look, but didn’t move. Her brow wrinkled in thought, Ayla studied her. She didn’t think the girl lacked intelligence, though she hardly spoke, but more that she didn’t seem to understand what to do. Suddenly Ayla remembered a time, when she first lived with the Clan, that she hadn’t known what to do, and it made her think. She had noticed that the girl seemed to respond best to direct statements.
“Lanoga, put the baby in this water,” she said. It was not a conversational request, but a statement, almost a command.
Lanoga moved slowly toward the stone basin, started to lift the naked baby from her hip, but seemed a little reluctant
to let go of her sister. Ayla picked Lorala up from the back, holding her under the arms so that she faced Lanoga, let her feet dangle, and slowly lowered her into a sitting position in the middle of the water in the stone depression.
The lukewarm water was a new sensation to the child and coaxed her to explore her surroundings. She reached into the water, then pulled her hand out and looked at it. She tested it again, this time accidentally splashing it a little, which caused her to look again, then she pulled her hand out and stuck her thumb in her mouth.
Well, she didn’t cry, Ayla thought. It’s a good start.
“Put your hand in this basket, Lanoga, and feel how slippery the water is because of the soaproot.” The girl did as she was told. “Now, hold some in your hand and let’s rub it on Lorala.”
As both pairs of hands rubbed the slippery liquid with bits of root on the baby, she sat still, but with a little frown on her face. It was a new but not totally unpleasant sensation. “Now we need to wash her hair,” Ayla said, thinking this might be more difficult. “We’ll start by rubbing some soaproot on the back of her head. You can wash her ears and neck, too.”
She watched the girl and noticed that she handled the baby with calm assurance and seemed to be getting more comfortable with the process of bathing her. Ayla stopped for a moment with a sudden realization. I wasn’t much older than Lanoga when I had Dure! Perhaps I could count a year or two more, that’s all. Of course, I had Iza to teach me how to take care of him, but I learned.
“Next, lay her on her back, support her with one hand, don’t let her face get in the water, and wash the top of her hair with your other hand,” Ayla told her. She helped Lanoga ease the baby back. Lorala resisted somewhat, but the girl’s hands were sure now, and the child didn’t object to the warmish water once she was in it, secure in her sister’s arms. Ayla helped wash her hair, and then with her hands still soapy, she washed the baby’s legs and bottom. They had been soaking in the water, which in itself was getting a bit slick.
“Now wash her face, very carefully, just using your hands and the water. Don’t let anything get in her eyes. It won’t hurt, but it may make her uncomfortable,” Ayla said.
When they were through, they sat the baby up again. The woman pulled a very soft, pliable yellowish hide out of her pack, laid it out, lifted the baby out of the water, and wrapped her in it. She gave the baby to Lanoga. “Here she is, all clean and fresh.” She noticed the girl rubbing the soft suede-leather of the drying blanket. “It is nice and soft, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Lanoga said, looking up at the woman.
“That was given to me as a gift by some people I met on our Journey. They were called Sharamudoi, and they were known for making the skins of chamois soft like that. Chamois are animals that live in the mountains near their home. They are something like mountain goats, but they are smaller than ibex. Do you know if there are chamois around here, Lanoga?”
“Yes,” the girl said. Ayla waited, smiling encouragingly. She had discovered that Lanoga responded to questions or direct commands, but didn’t seem to know how to engage in conversation. She didn’t know how to talk to people. Ayla kept smiling, waiting. Lanoga frowned, then finally said, “Some hunters brought one.”
She can talk! She volunteered a statement, Ayla thought, feeling pleased. She just needed some encouragement. “You can keep that hide, if you want,” she said.
Lanoga’s face showed a range of expressions the woman didn’t expect. First her eyes lit up, then showed doubt, and then fear. Then she frowned and shook her head. “No. Can’t.”
“Do you want the hide?”
The girl looked down. “Yes.”
“Then why can’t you keep it?”
“Can’t keep it,” the girl said, then hesitated. “Won’t let me. Someone will take it.”
Ayla began to understand. “All right, let’s do it this way. You keep it for me. Then you will have it when you want to use it.”
“Someone will take it,” Lanoga repeated.
“Tell me if someone takes it, then I will go and take it back,” Ayla said.
Lanoga started to smile, then frowned and shook her head again. “Someone will get mad.”
Ayla nodded. “I understand. I will keep it, then, but remember, any time you want to use it, for Lorala or for you, you can come and borrow it. If someone wants to take it, tell them it belongs to me.”
Lanoga took the soft hide off the baby and put her down on a patch of grass. She gave the hide to the woman. “She’ll mess it,” she said.
“That wouldn’t be so bad. We’d just have to wash it. Let’s put her on it. It’s softer than the grass,” Ayla said. She spread it out and laid the baby on it, noticing that it still retained a slight, but pleasant, smoky odor.
After a hide was cleaned and scraped, it was processed, often with the brains of the animal, then worked and stretched while it dried to a beautiful soft, napped finish. The nearly white hide was then tanned over a smoky fire. The wood and other fuel that was burned determined the color of the hide, usually tan with a brownish or yellowish hue, and, to a slight degree, the texture of the finished piece. The tanning wasn’t done primarily for the color, however, it was done to maintain elasticity. While a hide might be soft before tanning, if it got wet and wasn’t worked and stretched again, it would dry stiff and hard. But once the smoke coated the collagen fibers, a change took place that kept the leather soft even through a washing. Smoke tanning was what made animal hides truly usable.
Ayla noticed that Lorala’s eyes were closing. Wolf had finished with his bone and had moved closer while they were washing the baby, too curious to stay away. Ayla had glanced up and seen him. Now she signaled him to come closer, and he ran toward them.